The Master and the Apprentice
by Blithering Tripe
Summary: This story explores how Hiccup's relationships developed to reach the point they are at in the film and will maintain continuity with the first film. It is set five years before the first film when Hiccup is ten and just beginning his apprenticeship to Gobber.
1. Apprenticeship

"Son, we need to talk."

Hiccup turned, halfway up the stairs, and walked reluctantly down to stand across the fire from his father. He'd been dreading this moment ever since they'd returned from the fishing trip.

_It had been just the two of them, in the river not the bay, a treat on his tenth birthday. His father had been turned away concentrating on his line(1) when Hiccup had seen a flash of blue moving through the trees on the left bank and, thinking it was a véttr(2), he had quietly slipped from the boat to follow it. When Hiccup caught up to it, panting and puffing from the short, but lively chase, he'd discovered to his terror that it was a baby nadder and that, rather than leading him to a vast treasure or a magic sword, it had lead him to a cave in a clearing where a much larger and angrier adult waited. The mother had immediately seen him as a threat and attacked. He managed to evade it for only a half minute before it had him cornered and as he'd steeled himself for fiery demise his father had come charging into the clearing, unarmed, and yelling for Hiccup to run. He'd hidden behind a rock and watched as Stoick had, by a mixture of force and threat, caused the beast to flee into the cave with its young._

"Listen son, I love you more than anything else in this world…" Hiccup's worry jumped immediately, that wasn't a good start. "but you're too inquisitive. You'd have been killed by that nadder if I hadn't arrived when I did. You're a danger to yourself and others so I think the best course is to put you somewhere where you can learn without me worrying whether you're still all in one piece." _So, his dad was dumping him on some tradesman or other, probably a baker if the safety concern was any indications._ "Gobber's agreed to take you on as an apprentice." Hiccup's heart leapt, he loved Gobber. The two limbed blacksmith was almost as close as his father to him.

* * *

Stoick watched his son's face turn from despondent to elated as he told him what he'd arranged. Suddenly his son was sitting upright with a straight back and leaning forward waiting for his next words. "It'll be good for you. You'll start tomorrow morning, though between you and me I shouldn't worry to much about arriving early, Gobber might wake afore midday if you're lucky. Maybe you can finally put some muscle on that scraggy body of yours. Impress a certain blond haired lass? Make her something she won't crush?" And Hiccup flushed with embarrassment.

"Dad!"

Stoick remembered the day he'd seen Hiccup, then eight years old, give Astrid a flower crown he'd woven from myosotis.(3) _He'd been organizing a hunting party when he'd seen Hiccup standing nervously outside the Hofferson homestead holding a ring of blue flowers behind his back waiting for Astrid to exit. He hadn't been close enough to hear the two but Astrid had been clearly taken aback, too surprised to refuse the garland Hiccup had pressed into her hands. But as soon as she realized she'd taken them, and what they were, she'd thrown them back at him, crushing the petals, knocked him over, and pronounced, loudly enough for Stoick to hear, that she didn't "want his flowers or his poem." Hiccup had been torn up about it for days and Stoick suspected his teasing at the time hadn't helped either. His son had never tried to show Astrid his affection since, although it was still obvious by how distracted he was when she was close that he still had a crush on her._ Which was part of why he had arranged the fishing trip, to make it up to him as well as in celebration of his birthday. And now here he was praying to Odin that his little boy wouldn't lose an arm before the end of his first week with Gobber.

After a brief pause while the boy tried to stop his cheeks going red and Stoick tried to keep his face straight he returned to business. "You'll have to listen to Gobber son, but I'm sure you'll make me proud. And it'll be valuable experience for you, when time comes to choose your weapon and join us on the field of battle."

The blood in Hiccup's face dwindled as his mind came back to his father's words. "Thanks dad, I'll make you proud."

* * *

Hiccup felt conflicted about his apprenticeship. He loved Gobber more than any viking except his dad but that was kind doting 'uncle' Gobber who'd laughed with his pa about the good old days and their old adventures. He'd heard a rumour that the only other viking Gobber had ever taken on as an apprentice had only lasted a week before Gobber's disgusting habits, incessant blathering, and demanding training had caused him to quit. Of course, Hiccup wasn't about to let his father down, not after he'd spared Hiccup any kind of punishment for his rash adventure on their fishing trip.

He arrived in front of Gobber's workshop promptly at the third hour(4) and was staring at the apparently vacant forge wondering if he should knock when…

"Well… are you going to come in laddie? I'm not going ta hurt ye, not yet at least."

He blinked to see Gobber standing just inside the entrance, his left arm currently capped with smith's tongs.

"Well that's reassuring." Hiccup said and Gobber chuckled, "What, just going to stand there while you're old uncle Gobber does all the work, eh?! Start the forge going then when it's warmed up put that crude iron inside, sweep the floor, toss the scraps and shavings in with the crude iron, sharpen that axe blade too while you're at it and make sure you hold it right or it'll fly up and take some of your arm or chip and you'll have to make a whole new blade, and I want ye to pass me my hammer." A brief pause followed then… "Well, hop to it lad!"

"But, Gobber, I don't know how to do half of that. Can't you show me how first!?"

"I believe in learning on the job. After I see what you do with those jobs I'll know where you need coaching the most."

The following day was the hardest of Hiccup's life. It seemed like every time he reached for any implement Gobber would yell, "NOT LIKE THAT LAD, you'll lose your arm!" Or "ARE YOU TRYING TO BLUNT THAT EDGE!?" And even when he did something right Gobber'd find something wrong with it and make him do it all over again. By the end of it he was sore all over and he had bruises on his hands and feet from where he'd dropped things on them. Gobber sat next to him on the step of the forge, looked at him fondly and said, "Don't you worry, you'll get another chance." And then after a short pause, "You didn't do everything right lad but you did do everything and that's what counts. It may not look as exciting as your young friends on the fire patrol but blacksmithing's as tough as it gets."

"Gobber, I… look it's just… what's the point of this? While I'm in here the other kids will save sheep, houses, people! All I'll do is heat some metal now and again! I could be learning to fight, to kill dragons. I could be doing more."

"You think you're fathers axe just sharpens itself? Or that fairies bring us new bolas when we run out? Trust me lad, you'll be doing more in here than any one of them ever did out there, even your father can't match the number of dragons that've died to one of old Gobber's blades or the fires the never reached the skin thanks to my shields. It's not glamorous but it makes more difference than killing any dragon ever could, even if you were to take down a night fury."

Despite Gobber's reassurances Hiccup went to bed unhappy. _He might do more in the smithy than out of it but what did that matter. If he never killed a dragon it wouldn't matter that he was the chiefs son, or the best smith in the archipelago. His father wouldn't be impressed by a sharp blade and the other kids would never respect him for staying in the safety of the workshop while they killed dragons._

* * *

Hiccup awoke the net morning and groaned. His arms ached like hell and his right foot was mostly an ugly purple colour. When he came downstairs he found his father waiting for him with an expectant grin, "Well son, how did it go? Gobber wasn't too tough on you I hope? He told me to send you by as soon as you woke but I reckon we can talk for five minutes. What d'ya say son?"

"Right… Dad." Hiccup wanted to tell his dad he couldn't do it. It was too hard. He wasn't even close to healed from yesterday and Gobber hadn't looked as though he'd lessen the load just for a few bruises and aches but… "No… not too bad. I… ummm… I'd better get going if Gobber wants me…"

"Right then… off you go son. I'll be gone, hunting for… for a while. So… study hard, I'll be back."

Hiccup winced inwardly, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be making his dad proud, bringing them closer together but Stoick was leaving. Well, he'd use the time, when his father returned he'd find a son to be proud of.

* * *

Gobber sighed. He was forty five now, positively ancient for a viking. _Besides old Gothi and her husband old wrinkly Egil he was the oldest viking in the village. You didn't get old unless you were good. The bad vikings died in their first few raids and while he couldn't match Stoick these days he'd beaten him solidly back when he'd had all his limbs. He'd watched Hiccup carefully in the forge yesterday, it wouldn't have done to let him get really hurt, and he had to admit he was impressed. At ten years old the boy showed real promise. He'd learned quickly and he was careful enough not to hurt himself when the danger was obvious. Hell, the boy had put a real edge on Spitlout's sword on his first day. Gobber'd tested the blade himself and been surprised when he'd pulled his hand away and found a long thin, clean cut right down the thumb. The boy might be scrawny, and small but if he could learn to smith like that he wouldn't need to kill dragons, the villagers would be all too happy to let him stay safe inside, keeping their blades sharp and the shields intact. Too bad the lad would never go for it._ Gobber'd watched him for years now and he knew the signs when he saw them. _Hiccup would have killed his first dragon by sixteen or he would never kill any. He'd never be content to live the glamor less lonely life of a master weapon-smith. Gobber had heard the stories from Stoick, Hiccup's escapades into the forest in search of treasure and dragons and he knew that it wasn't just the Haddock blood coming out. Hiccup needed to be like his father. And he really, really wasn't._ Gobber sighed a stood up, a familiar fur coat was coming toward him from the village. He couldn't stop the lad from fighting so he figured he'd best prepare him as best he could.

* * *

Hiccup could see Gobber stand as he approached the smithy. The old soldier twisted his neck then looked at Hiccup with a grin on his face and said, "Well lad, what'll it be today?"

"What…"

"What d'you want to learn? Hmmm?"

"I…. I don't know… I thought you'd teach me?"

"Oh aye, I will. But I can tell you're already exhausted now before we've even started. You'd probably quit on me if I made you do what I've planned for tomorrow. So, tell me, what do you want to learn?"

"What, you'll teach me anything?"

"Aye, anything at all."

"Ummm… Gobber?"

"Yes lad?"

"Umm… I thought of… a way to make smithing easier."

"That so laddie? What's this grand scheme o'yours then?"

"Well, I was thinking. When you make a sword you have to hammer it again and again and again and again. And each time you hit it your strike has to be consistent or the blade won't be even the whole way down the blade. So what if you built a hammer that would strike the blade for you and all you had to do is bring the blade into the right spot?"

"And how would you do that then lad?"

"You've seen the way tree's bend when the wind hit them. What if you put blades together in a circle on an axle so that the wind would turn them and then you could put a piston on a circle from the axle to hammer for you. Or… Or. it could turn the grinder to sharpen blades. Or maybe even turn another set of blades to heat the forge…?

"And what if you wind stopped lad? Or blew stronger or weaker?"

"Oh… umm…" Hiccup's mind raced, he had to save this idea, it'd been so beautiful when he had dreamt it up. This was his chance to impress Gobber, to show him he could really be his apprentice. Sure, Gobber had said the other day that Hiccup was a good apprentice but he couldn't really mean that. He hadn't been impressed with any of Hiccup's work that first day.

"I… don't know… I hadn't thought of that Gobber."

"Don't worry about it lad, you don't need to be thinking these things up yet. You're not even able to forge a blade yet, plenty of time for improvements later."

There was a pause then Hiccup said, "Teach me to play Maces and Talons.(5)"

The following day was one of the happiest of Hiccup's life. Gobber, it turned out, was an excellent player, far better than Fishlegs, the only kid who'd ever been willing to play Maces and Talons with Hiccup. Hiccup was a talented player but he didn't win a single game against Gobber, whether he played as the Marauders or the Vikings. And, when he went to sleep that night, he didn't even notice how much he still ached from the day before, his mind was too busy playing out strategies for the next time he played against Gobber.

1 Yes vikings did have fishing lines at least by 1000 AD and probably well before, I'm guessing that Hiccup lived at least within 250 years of 1000 AD judging by the quality and complexity of the metalwork from the films though I haven't put in any research & this is obviously based on the films and not the books where Rome is still the biggest power.

2 A wight, a spirit, in both English and Viking cultures.

3 Myosotis Arvensis, the field forget me not

4 I'm assuming that like some cultures the Berkians counted from sunrise, here assumed to be 7 am, to judge the hours of their day so the third hour is 10 am

5 For those who don't know, Maces and Talons is a fictional game introduced in race to the edge. I plan to make it extremely prevalent throughout this early Hiccup fan fiction and will be making a game and set of rules which I'll be happy to share when they're finished if anybody wants them. I expect it will turn out to be a mix of chess and Terry Pratchetts fictional game Thud as well as elements of my own design.

**Authors Notes:** This is my first fan fiction ever so if you enjoy please let me know, if you didn't let me know that too. I really want to get better at this and that'll be much easier if anybody reading this gives me suggestions. Also if you have any ideas for where you think this story should go let me know. I haven't planned it all out though I do have a vague idea where I want it to end.

This is intended to explain a few things about Hiccups past as well as how his relationships with Gobber and Stoick are defined. If this is well received I will write another in the same universe set after the first film. If that happens the universe will probably expand with the second and third movies not being a part of it.(They are incredible movies but I don't like the direction that Dean Debois took Hiccup and the other characters) I have a vague but very real plan for a story arc to replace RTTE, HTTYD 2, and HTTYD THW in what I hope will be a telling more true to the characters.

If you enjoyed this feel free to share it with anyone you think might be interested to read it. I figure the wider an audience I reach the more input I receive and the more I can improve my writing.

One horizontal line indicated a shift from one characters perspective to another's. Two horizontal lines indicate a shift in either time or scene or both. (#) is a footnote, further information is at the bottom of the chapter.


	2. Hand of Fate

Gobber's eyes narrowed. He hefted his shield and stared down his opponent unflinchingly. His enemy looked cowed but unwilling to give in without a fight. Then with a blood curdling roar he charged. Gobber sidestepped handily, his hammer coming down to crush his rivals leg, and his foe crashed into the wall of the arena. Despite Gobber's heavy blow and the impact from the collision he still glared at Gobber with perfect hatred and charged again. This time when Gobber sidestepped his opponent was ready and a blow came out of nowhere, making him lose his footing and tumble to the ground. For the first time in the fight Gobber was actually worried. He knew he was rusty, it'd been weeks since a dragon raid and months since he'd fought any skilled opponent but he hadn't expected to go down this easily. He hauled himself up and glowered at his enemy. Then he charged, screaming out a war cry. This time his opponent didn't have a chance. Gobber's hammer came down on his head, then hit one of his limbs hard enough that it cracked and a final blow to the side knocked the spirit out of the fighter. The nightmare's only thought now was to get away and the only way open and away from the two limbed curse was back into the close confines of his cage.

Gobber wiped the sweat from his brow as he closed the cage. He hadn't expect to so nearly lose that fight. Stoick would've laughed at him if he'd seen it. "You're a bit out of practice ain't you Gobber?"

Gobber turned to see Spitelout, the acting chief while Stoick was absent, standing behind the chains of the cage. "You know we can ill afford to lose you Gobber. Whose going ta make our weapons with you gone hmmm..? Why'd you come down here now all of a sudden? You haven't wanted to train in ages."

"Spitelout, you know Stoick's wee runt of a boy?"

"Aye, we've all heard the stories."

"He's going to get himself killed if he doesn't receive training."

"Perhaps, but you know the rule, 'Only the strong can belong.'"

"Spitelout, you know we need him. If he dies it will break Stoick's heart and we can ill afford to lose our chief now. The dragons won't stay away for much longer. Stoick was a fool to go hunting now. Besides, Hiccup's the one who put the edge on that sword you're wearing so proudly."

"Whaat? He made this edge? I thought you only started him the other day?"

"Aye, and he has talent. He'll never have muscles like your boy Snotlout but he has more skill in his hands than your great lump of a boy has in his whole body. But the poor lad is so set on being a dragon killer. He won't get there on his own, so I'm going to show him the way."

"Well you'll have your work cut out for you Gobber. I hope you haven't bitten off more'n you can chew."

* * *

"Take a break lad!" Hiccup heaved a sigh of relief. He'd been working the bellows for two hours straight while Gobber worked and he felt just about ready to drop. He went to collapse onto the bench but as soon as he began to sink Gobber shouted, "What are you doing lad? I didn't say you were done working!"

"But you just said, 'Take a break'"

"From the bellows lad! Now we're going to teach you how to fight! Take the sword from the bench behind you and come outside."

Hiccup's muscles ached but he was too excited to heed them. He'd been dreaming of this for years. He was going to learn to fight. He would learn to kill dragons. His dad would finally be proud of him instead of loving him only.

The sword was heavy and ill balanced. It was notched and ugly, made from a cheap pot iron and so Hiccup could barely swing it and his strokes were wild and off target against the dummy Gobber set him to practice on. His muscles cramped each time he swung and it jarred his arm when his sword bit into the dummy. He knew he wasn't doing it right and Gobber still hadn't said anything, hadn't told him how to swing properly or what he was doing wrong, instead he was watching Hiccup with a thoughtful expression that was never seen in public. Gobber loved to exaggerate his persona as a dim witting buffoon but he was as sharp as any warrior in the village, other than old Egil he was the only person who could decipher Gothi's scribbles.

"Stop!" Gobber called out suddenly, "Right lad, I want you to take the sword on the inner wall of the smithy, the small one with the double handle and the square pommel, and try again."

Hiccup retrieved the other sword and went back to hitting the dummy, this time his strokes where more controlled. The new sword was lighter, smaller, and much better balanced. This time it was only a few minutes before Gobber again called for him to stop.

* * *

"Right lad, Stoick's taught you to swing a sword, that much is obvious." Even with his cramped and aching muscles Hiccup's form was competent. "But you can only get so far hitting a straw dummy. I want you to take that sword your holding and try to run old Gobber through with it."

Hiccup felt his mouth fall open. He stared in horror at the man who was almost a close as a father to him. The man who'd just told him to spit him like a pig.

"Gobber, I can't attack you! You're not even armed."

"Oh ho! You think old Gobber's defenceless with his peg leg and hook arm do you!? I'll be fine boy. Now attack me."

Hiccup couldn't see any way out of it so he gave a half hearted swing at Gobber. Gobber, for his part, didn't even move. Hiccup's blade passed about a foot from the old viking's head and came to rest limply by his side.

"What was that lad!? I said to attack me, not to give me a nice breeze. Try that again and this time actually make an effort."

This time Hiccup actually put a little effort into his swing. And Gobber still wasn't moving. Hiccup watched as though in slow motion as his sword came closer and closer to his mentor's head. And Gobber still hadn't moved. And then, as Hiccup tried to turn his head away so he wouldn't have to see the horrible result of his hasty attack and prayed to the gods to forgive him, he felt the wind knocked out of him and his head spin. When he opened his eyes he was lying on his back, his sword was hilt up in the ground ten feet away and Gobber was standing over him chuckling to himself. He reached out his good hand and helped Hiccup to his feet.

"Well lad, what'd you learn?"

"Never do as hook armed, one legged, short tempered, viking smiths tell you."

Gobber smiled. "Aye, that's one lesson. But maybe next time you can learn to trust your master to know his business? And to put you body and mind behind each swing you take? You're young yet, so I wouldn't worry too much about this but remember this: A dragon won't sit there waiting for you to attack, nor leave you on the ground till you're ready to get up and fight again."

Gobber had Hiccup spend the rest of the day learning how to sharpen each type of weapon. Then they played a single game of Maces and Talons, Gobber won handily sinking both Hiccup's ships in the beginning and then taking control of the dragon to hunt down Hiccup's vikings one by one.

* * *

Gobber was busy the next day so Hiccup spent it wandering throughout the village. He thought he'd visit Gothi. The old lady always cheered him up. She didn't ask much of him when he visited. So while she scratched stories in the dirt floor of the hut he let his mind wander.

_Since when did Gobber know how to fight like that. Father's mentioned that Gobber was once the most skilled warrior in the tribe but I didn't even see him move and he had only a split second to react. If it weren't Gobber I'd think there was some trick, like he'd fed me mushrooms or something. But if he can do that, that means he can teach me to too. I can learn to fight like Gobber. Dad will be so pleased when he comes back and finds I'm a better swordsman than any of the others. And… And Snotlout won't make fun of me if he knows I could kill him in a few minutes if we fought. And… And the twins won't dare prank me, not if it means a fight. Maybe Astrid would be impressed too._

* * *

Gothi was laughing to herself. The boy had come up here. He'd been nice enough, helping her find the right ingredients and then asking her to tell him some stories but she could tell that, although his eyes roved up and down her scribblings, he wasn't reading them. She knew because she'd started telling stories about the time Stoick and Gobber had gone out in a boat to fight a Scauldron and had come back with no boat, one less limb than they'd left with, and covered in burns. Hiccup hadn't laughed and he hadn't frowned. He wasn't just thinking, he was dreaming. It would be bad for the youngster to be dreaming yet. Back when he'd been born Stoick had asked her to read his fortune. She'd told the chief that he would be the one to bring peace between vikings and dragons. The one who'd finally end their war. She hadn't told the rest of what she'd seen in the stones, of the bond with the child of Hel or the deaths it would cost it get there. She hadn't told him that the boy would bring Berk closer to ruin in achieving his end than they'd been in the three hundred years since they sailed to the archipelago. She hadn't told him how thin a line fate had to weave to fit through times narrow keyhole. How likely the boy was to die, and to bring his father nothing but guilt, grief and shame. Still, she'd done what she could so far. She'd planted the seeds in Stoick's mind to apprentice his son to Gobber when'd he'd come seeking advice about what to do with the boy. And she'd plainly told Gobber to teach the boy to play Maces and Talons, to teach him to know what, who, and how to sacrifice. But she didn't know, she couldn't know, how to teach him why and she knew it might prove the ruin of Berk.

* * *

Snotlout was walking down the street past the great hall when he saw Hiccup coming down its steps. He'd been having a good day until that moment. He'd trained with his father. He'd managed to avoid a trick the twins had tried to play on him and found a culture of mushrooms. Unfortunately all of this was driven from his mind when he saw Hiccup. He was very much aware that, if Hiccup had not been born, he would have been in line to be chief and even more aware, his father told him frequently, that he was much stronger than Hiccup and therefore a better viking.

Snotlout was not a bully, not really, just very arrogant. Even at ten years old he'd already won the Thawfest games twice in a row and it was no help to his ego to see **his** medals nailed onto the wall above his bed.

* * *

Hiccup's mind was wandering as he came down from Gothi's hut. In fact he was so consumed with his own thoughts that he didn't notice the other boy until he walked into him.

"Hiccup! Watch where you're going!"

That was remarkably tame of Snotlout but Hiccup couldn't resist a slight jab, not with the dreams of glory from the defeat of famous fencers running through his head.

"Sorry Snotlout. Gobber's teaching me to fight. I'm going to be the greatest swords-master Berk has ever seen!"

"You!? Ha, with that old goat as your teacher? Gobber can't tell one end of a sword from another, he's hardly going to make you a master fencer, not that the teacher is going to make any difference. My dad says you have the least innate talent of any fighter he's ever seen!"

And suddenly the two boys were rolling in the dirt. Hiccup was already stronger from the few days he'd spent hard at work in the forge but Snotlout's natural bulk and practiced technique made the fight a short one. Within a minute Hiccup was on his back and Snotlout was pushing him into the dirt.

When Snotlout finally let him up it was all Hiccup could do not to cry. He'd been on top of the world. Gobber was teaching him to fight. He would learn. He would kill a dragon. He would make his dad proud, Gobber proud. He'd earn the loyalty and respect of the villagers. And then Snotlout had come along with a sharp reminder of real life and a face full of dirt. The shame of being beaten so easily and the pain, from the little cuts that had opened across his face from the sharp ground, together served to draw his heart down out of his chest and into his stomach. He felt as though he would vomit and eventually he couldn't hold back anymore and he had to cry, to let out all of the guilt he'd been feeling since the fishing trip with his father. He hadn't even realized he'd imagined it until now but memories flashed before his eyes: his father dead with a nadder's spine in his chest all because Hiccup couldn't listen, because Hiccup wasn't the viking his dad wanted, because Hiccup couldn't listen or follow orders. And the worst part was that Stoick loved him anyway, loved him out of duty not pride or respect. And in that moment Hiccup broke slightly. He didn't know what to do anymore. His father would be back in a week and Hiccup couldn't face him in this state of mind. Tomorrow he'd arrive at Gobber's forge and Gobber would ask him what had happened to his face and why he looked so cast down. He wouldn't be able to answer. Because to tell Gobber about his fight he'd have to tell him why it matter and Gobber would drag the whole truth out from him and then he'd try to make Hiccup feel better and promise not to tell his father. He needed to solve this problem himself.

It was rather funny really. Hiccup made this resolution and he never realized, not in that moment or any later time, that if he tried to solve his problem without help he was only heaping fuel on its fire. He never realized that he didn't follow his fathers orders because he didn't respect him. He loved his father and held him up as an idol to live up to. But he didn't respect him enough to trust that his father wouldn't care that he'd lost to Snotlout and would want to help. And this lack of respect was what caused him to disobey Stoick's orders when the dragons raided or when he was told to stay in the boat with his father as they fished.

* * *

Gobber looked up to find the wrinkled face of Gothi peering at him from across her hut. "Was it really necessary Ghetta? The boy is so young. We can't expect him to grow so much in five years."

Line curve scratch sun rising and then the old woman's face was an inch away from his and she whispered, "Yes Gobber. It is necessary. He'll suffer now maybe but we'll all be better for it. Even he."

**Author's Notes:** I'm starting to reveal the story line a bit more here. My version of the HTTYD universe is not devoid of magic or mystical elements. Gothi, or Ghetta as Gobber calls her, really can tell the future. My goal here is to set up the drama of the first film to carry more meaning and hopefully to connect it and this to a future fic that will follow after the events of the first film and replace RTTE, HTTYD 2, and HTTYD THW. Any suggestions about the plot of the story or character arcs is greatly appreciated.

If you enjoyed this please leave me a review letting me know what you enjoyed and why and most importantly how I can improve in the future. If you didn't enjoy I am just as happy, or perhaps even happier, to hear what you have to say. Please share this with anybody who you think might be interested to read it.

**I've finished Maces & Talons, **I am now working to balance the game and make a proper rulebook/instruction book. Please private message me if you want to get the rules I've developed and I'll share a google doc with you.


	3. Lost Pt 1

Gobber watched the boy from across the forge as he battered the rough rectangle of metal into the shape of a sword blade. The boy was improving quickly. He'd come to the smithy two days ago with his face covered in cuts. Gobber hadn't asked him how he got them, he already knew. A flood of guilt washed through him. _What was he doing!? Here was Stoick's son, his god-son, beaten and abused and made to feel worse than the mud he'd been pushed in, and he wasn't doing anything. Ghetta had said that the fight with Snotlout had to happen, that Hiccup would never feel distant enough from the people of Berk to be willing to sacrifice them(1 _**this footnote is important please read it ****before continuing**_) if he felt that too many of them would miss him. But surely no future was worth this cost? What could possibly happen that justified standing by and doing nothing? Surely there was another way, surely Ghetta could find it. He couldn't do nothing, much less help to prompt this suffering, as she pushed and pulled her little strings, ruining Hiccup's life in the hope that someday, maybe, he __**might**__ save everybody. He'd talk to Ghetta, make her show him another way. He had to. Hiccup was too important, to him, to Stoick. _Then Gobber remembered the last time he'd tried to achieve Gothi's end another way. It had lost him his wife.(2) And Gobber knew _He wouldn't try to mess with fate, not again. Instead he would do everything he could to ease the boy's path and he would feel the guilt and shame of it for the rest of his life._

That night the dragons returned to raid again, for the first time in almost three weeks.

* * *

Hiccup was excited, he should have been afraid. The dragons had come back, probably the only raid that'd occur before his dad returned. He would make his mark here and now and when the chief returned his father would be proud. A small nagging doubt in the back of his mind reminded him that he was only ten and that the best weapon he could competently wield was a short sword, probably the worst weapon to fight dragons. A short sword lacked the reach of a spear or a longsword and the force of an axe so by the time you could hit the dragon it would already be tearing you with its claws and even if you evaded them the blade simply couldn't do the necessary damage to pierce a dragons armour. Hiccup however didn't realize this as more than a subtly doubt, an intuition of the foolishness of his quest. Nevertheless he set off through the village in search of a foe. A ten year old boy with a three foot stick of metal almost as tall as he was seeking a fire breathing monster more than forty feet long.

The fighting in the village was fierce. With Stoick gone and the leadership in disarray it was lucky that the absolute worst of winter had already passed and that the remaining months till it came again would only feature chilling winds and freezing rain.(3) Hiccup ran, ignoring the directions of various vikings to, "GET BACK INSIDE!" He was too consumed by his exhilaration to heed the guidances of these older warriors. Gobber was fighting, with Spitelout's aid, a Gronckle and two Nadders. Hiccup watched in fascination at the way that, although neither warrior seemed to move more than a few feet, the Nadder's spines and Gronckles lava never touched them. At one point he could have sworn he saw Gobber actually deflect a spine off the blade of his battle-axe. And then Hiccup was running again, looking for a dragon. The wind ran through his face and his sword glinted in the sun. His mind was too consumed with what he would down when he'd killed the beast to worry, even for an instant, about how he would effect that event.

The house to his right looked perfectly normal, except for some green gas that was beginning to leak out from under the door. Hiccup heard a quiet '_stzss stzss'_ and the house exploded. Hiccup was blown off his feet. His sword left his grasp and flew to only the gods know where. And then Hiccup was running. His mind's confidence and resolve banished and replaced only with fear. There was a fence, he crawled under it and kept running. Trees filled his vision and branched whipped at his face and still he ran. His mind still filled with a ringing that was all he could imagine after the boom and the hiss of the fire. He thought he'd heard a scream as the house went up. He hoped he hadn't. And then suddenly a branch loomed before his eyes and he was too slow to duck. Darkness enveloped him and he lost consciousness.

* * *

Spitelout was terrified. He would never admit that he was afraid of Stoick, indeed he normally cared about Stoick's mood about as much as he cared what mood a dragon was in, enough to determine whether or not to avoid him, but right now he was keenly aware that Hiccup was missing and that he had been left in charge. He also knew that he couldn't run or hide from this, it was his responsibility to bear, his blame. So it was with a heavy heart and a downcast face that Spitelout Jorgenson greeted Stoick Haddock, the Vast, Chief of Berk, and father of Hiccup Haddock the third.

* * *

"He's gone?" Stoick said, his voice was normal, he didn't sound distressed or worried. Yet. "What do you mean, 'he's gone?'"

"We don't know Stoick. There was a raid, a big one, maybe three hundred dragons. Hiccup went out there. Tuffnut said he saw him with a sword around Hackard's house, then he lost sight of him a Zippleback blew it to pieces." Spitelout steeled himself and held his head high. This was his fault, and he would bare whatever punishment Stoick allotted.

"You're telling me the last time my son was seen was when a Zippleback destroyed Hackard's house and that he was only a few feet away when it happened? AND THAT WAS TWO DAYS AGO?"

Spitelout nodded. To his surprise, and worry, Stoick still didn't become agitated. "You will stay here, run the village. I'm going to organize a search party and go after my son. Do not let anybody else disappear!"

"Gobber's already searching, he took Harald, Grimbor, and Haggard. They went north to search around raven point."

"Then I'll go northwest and search Westwood. If Hiccup returns light a huge fire and make a smoke signal."(4)

"Right. And Stoick, I'm sorry. You will find Hiccup."

Stoick didn't reply, he simply turned putting his helmet and walked towards the great hall to prepare the search party.

* * *

Hiccup opened his eyes. His left arm hurt and he felt something warm and sticky dripping down his face. He reached up to wipe it away and his hand came away red. Blood he realized, his blood. After he got over this initial realization he sat up and came to another conclusion: he had no idea where he was. A tree above him waved in the strong wind, an elm he thought dully.

He took stock of his situation. He was alone, in the forest. His left arm was hurting and heavily bruised but not broken. He had a shallow cut to his forehead but it was bleeding, a lot. He didn't know where he was except that he was still on Berk and he didn't know how long he'd been unconscious for. Hiccup did then what any sensible ten year old boy would do. He cried.

All he could think about was how he would never see his father again, or Gobber. He was lost and alone, so alone, in an unfamiliar place with strange creatures around him. Speaking of which… Hiccup bolted to his feet, all thoughts of pain and loneliness forgotten. He could have sworn that… yes there was something, several somethings, slinking through the trees maybe sixty feet away. His heart seized, it was dragons they were coming to finish him off. Then he realized how stupid he was being, most dragons didn't slink and the ones that did were much stealthier than these creatures. He relaxed. Then he heard a squeal, a ways off to his left, and his heart jumped back up. He'd heard that a pack of wild boars could tear a viking to pieces whether they wanted to or not and that they were almost as short tempered as dragons. He had to get away. And then Hiccup was running again, the blood from his wound streaming down into his eyes and mixing with his tears, every moment he expected to hear squeals and the pounding of the boar's feet. He knew they could smell his blood, and probably his fear. He had to hide, to somehow disguise himself, his scent, from their snouts.

The galloping feet were close behind him now. He could see boars on either side of him, their eyes bloodshot and glaring. In desperation he threw himself behind a tree and… the boars… ran right past him, into the forest without a second glance. And that was when Hiccup knew he really was doomed. Boars were as stupid as they were strong, the didn't run from anything, but there they were fleeing. And now that he saw it he realized those squeals, which he had thought to be anger, were in fact terror.

* * *

Gobber was running now, Harald, Grimbor, and Haggard left far behind. These boars were running from something and Hiccup was out here, somewhere. If it, whatever it was, found Hiccup before he did he would never be able to look Stoick in the eyes again.

He was past the boars now and running faster and faster. He'd have to replace his peg leg later, this would wear the wood down so he couldn't walk but right now it didn't matter. It might have been only his imagination but he could have sworn he had heard a young boy scream faintly ahead of him. As he ran, urging himself to a final push, he could also have sworn that the ground moved as though something big were tunnelling below it.

* * *

Hiccup was going to die. He'd found out what boars were afraid of. It was staring at him now, its pupilless eyes boring into his skull and its comically small wings flapping rapidly to keep it up right. Then it let out a blood curdling screech and Hiccup got a good look down its throat at the hundreds of teeth, row upon row, oscillating, before he collapsed. It turned out that this saved Hiccup's life. When the whispering death saw its prey go limp and fall in heap to the ground it became confused. Normally things made funny sounds and tried to run when it attacked. Normally they died afterwards, because it killed them. The whispering death paused for a few seconds before it decided that food was food and it didn't matter whether it had the thrill that comes before the kill. This pause cost it its life.

* * *

Gobber saw the dragon rise out of the earth. He saw the boy stare at it as though mesmerized. He watched as it opened its mouth and screeched. He watched as the boy fell limp to the ground. The whispering death paused as though contemplating its food and then Gobber was there. The beast was lunging at Hiccup, and Gobber put on a final burst of speed to come crushing into its side just before its teeth found their mark. Enraged the beast turned, too stupid to run when it saw the look of pure hatred in the old smiths eye. Gobber had his hook and he had a shield nothing more but had he been fighting with only his stump of an arm and bare naked he would not have lost that fight, not with those stakes. Two minutes later the beast lay dead and Gobber tendering picked up the fallen boy. His face was bloody from a wound to his forehead but it was beginning to dry. His arm was twisted at an odd angle but didn't seem broken when Gobber checked it. The boy was breathing, faintly, but he had lost more blood than he could afford to lose and his face was pale. Gobber wrapped him in his cloak, now stained with the blood of his enemy, and turned to find Grimbor standing behind him, the look in his eye plainly asking, "is he alive?" The man didn't say it but Gobber answered anyway, "He's alive, but he's lost too much blood and his arm is twisted, not to mention cold. We need to get him to Gothi now."

* * *

Stoick put his hand to his eye and wiped away a tear. He'd returned when one of his men had spotted a billowing column of smoke from the village and had found his son with Gothi. The old woman had had him put on her bed and kept warm with constant fire but otherwise Stoick didn't see that she'd done anything. His son was going to die, he hadn't moved all day and his face was haggard. You couldn't even feel his breath if you put your hand above his mouth and, although the arm had been bent back and set, Gothi had said that a muscle had been pulled and Hiccup wouldn't be able to use the arm for weeks.

"Son… I know you can't hear me now, but I wish you could. I didn't mean for this to happen. You didn't need to do this to impress me. I love you son, I always will, nothing you could ever do will change that."

* * *

Gobber worked in his forge, alone. He hadn't realized it but in the four days Hiccup had been his apprentice He'd already made himself an integral part of Gobber's work. Every time his hammer came down he cursed himself. This was his fault. He shouldn't have let himself believe that Gothi was right. She probably couldn't even tell the future, it must all be clever thinking and guesswork but he'd let that guesswork guide him not to intervene in Hiccup's fight with Snotlout. That prophecy had lead him to let Hiccup stew and try to work through his problems himself. Gobber swore he was done with prophecies. Gothi be damned! He couldn't let this happen, not when he could prevent it. And he wouldn't, not ever.

(1)i.e. Willing to sacrifice living with them, willing to die for them not willing to sacrifice them. I think that when Hiccup went up against the Red Death in HTTYD he expected to die, I can't imagine he really hoped to win and this is what I'm trying to set up here. Please do not think I am trying to turn Hiccup into some kind of horrible game master who strategically drops people the moment it is to his greatest advantage

(2)In my continuity Gobber was married, like I have said before this HTTYD universe will not include anything after defender's of Berk season 2 and I am not sure I want to make any of the TV shows canon for it. Gobber having married and lost his wife is just too useful and valuable an event for me to pass up, especially cause it adds a lot to his character if you see him as sad and mourning and his jokes and comic relief in the movie(s) are just a front.

(3)In the books Hiccup's birthday is February 29th. For simplicities sake I'm going with this. He is 10 year old right, as in having lived for ten years. Stoick simply celebrates his birthday on the 28th on non-leap years. So right now the story is in early march which is right about when places like Iceland and Jutland start to heat up(to like 7 degrees celsius at most) and I assume Berk is no different. This is lucky since the dragons will undoubtably steal a large quantity of food that would be hard to replace if winter were still in full swing.

**Author's Notes:**

I hadn't anticipated when I started this story how difficult it would be to keep continuity with the film especially since I have to maintain Hiccup's character and not do anything so drastic that he'd lose all interest in fighting dragons. I don't think I went to far here but I feel like I'm pushing the limit of what I can do without making the events of the film seem like an improbable continuation from this story.

I'll be releasing Ch.4 Lost Pt2 on saturday sunday or monday at the latest. After ch.4 is out I'm going to be releasing chapters more slowly, 1 or 2 per week, since school is starting up again and I won't have much time to write. Please let me know what you think and how I can improve the story and my writing. Thanks


	4. Lost Pt 2

Hiccup woke up. His first thought was that he should have been looking into a circle of teeth. Instead of a gaping jaw and empty eyes staring at him with hunger and malice he looked up into an empty room. He was in Gothi's hut, that much was clear, though his vision was blurred slightly as he regained consciousness. He reached his arm out to push himself into a sitting position and immediately cried out in pain. He tried to move his arm again and again pain flared through him. And then Hiccup was angry. _He had failed. His memories came flooding back to him. He had taken Gobber's sword and gone out to kill a dragon. Something had exploded and then he'd run. He remembered the boars, he remembered their fear and then he remembered the monster. He was able to picture it clearly now, a long, thin, snakelike body covered in spikes. Two unblinking empty eyes. And that mouth, filled with row upon row of teeth, rotating, twisting. It should never have been, that creature. And it had attacked Hiccup. So why was he still alive? He didn't remember anything after the beast attacked. Maybe he had died, maybe this was Odin's hall, maybe. Though that couldn't be right. Odin would never want a runt of a boy like Hiccup, who couldn't even fight, who'd run away at the first sign of danger. And he didn't feel dead. So that must mean he was alive. He __**was**__ alive. …But what did that matter?_

Hiccup's train of thought came to a crashing halt. He suddenly realized that he was hungry. Not merely hungry, starving, as though he hadn't eaten for weeks.(1) Somebody had left a plate on the ground beside his bed. He reached down, twinging as his arm protested the motion and his body, confused from the lack of motion for so long, momentarily forgot how to pump blood. It was fish. Smoked cod to be precise. Hiccup loved smoked cod. He put the fish in his mouth, chewed and swallowed… and threw up. He didn't feel nauseous or tired, his body simply refused the food. And then Hiccup realized he was alone. _Where was his father? He had almost died. __**He**__ should be here. _A bird sang outside of the window, a cheerful noise. Hiccup hated it. He wanted silence, needed silence, to think. He rose from the bed, his legs weak from his long immobilization, stumbled, found his footing and opened the door.

* * *

_Later_

Stoick came to the door of Gothi's hut. His duty to the village had kept him away the entire morning but finally he had time to do his duty to his son. His son who hadn't moved in two weeks. He opened the door. He stepped inside, softly closing the door so as not to disturb Hiccup. He removed his helmet and looked at his son. Or rather he looked at the empty bed that had held his son six hours previous.

* * *

_Earlier_

Astrid Hofferson was walking through town with her mother. A small but very sharp battle axe merrily swinging in circles, cutting every flower she passed off at the head and leaving a trail of petals in her wake. She looked to her left and saw the twins, buckets of indeterminable content in hand, sneaking behind a house, on her right Fishlegs sat on the step in front of his door, buried deep in **the **book(2). She looked left again and saw Hiccup, slinking along, tired, battered, and looking absolutely ready to collapse. _Wait a minute… Hiccup? _Astrid's curiosity overcame her and she slowed slightly, falling behind her mother, before turning neatly and calmly walking after the retreating form.

* * *

_Now_

Every step Hiccup took made him want to collapse but he kept going. He needed to be alone, to think. _Did his father not love him? _He was out of the village now following the rocky path to the coast. _Why hadn't he been there? _He decided he was far enough away now, he'd have enough time to think before somebody found him. _Why hadn't he been there? __**Why**__ hadn't he been there?_ Hiccup didn't understand, indeed, he couldn't understand. To him no more than two days had passed since the raid, to Stoick it had been two weeks. He didn't know that for the first week his father hadn't left his side, not even to sleep, not until Gobber had come and told him he had to leave, to serve his people, and that even then his father had returned to Gothi's hut every time he could. That his father was just now reaching that hut, and finding the bed empty.

Hiccup looked out over the ocean, the afternoon sun dancing off the waves made little twinkles,(3) flashes of light that glinted in his eye. And then his eyes glinted to the waves as they filled with water.(4) _His father didn't even love him. He didn't respect him, he wasn't proud of him, he didn't… didn't love him. He couldn't, he hadn't been there._ To Hiccup's brilliant stupid idiotic young mind it was incomprehensible. _His father hadn't been there, he hadn't been there._

"Hiccup?"

Hiccup would have jumped out of his skin if he had had the energy to jump, he didn't. Instead he turned around slowly to find Astrid standing behind him, a look of concern on her face.

"Leave me alone." He couldn't talk, not to anyone, not now.

* * *

Astrid flinched. She'd never heard Hiccup sound so… so… _empty. _It scared her but she couldn't just _go_.

"Are you ok?"

"Do I look ok? Does any of this look ok?" His voice was barely more than a whisper, soft enough she could only just make out his words.

"What's wrong?"

"Just go away!" His voice was rising now, still soft, not even his normal voice but shockingly loud after the whisper. She turned to go.

"Wait! Astrid… do you know…?" She turned around. "Do your parents love you?"

The question caught her so much be surprise she didn't even think before she blurted out her answer, "Of course…" As soon as it left her mouth she saw that it had hurt him. His face didn't fall or fill with tears. It emptied. There was no expression left, just the tears, running down his cheeks. She couldn't stand it anymore. The boy turned away and she turned to flee.(5)

* * *

Hiccup heard the girl's retreating footsteps but they didn't register. He let himself sink onto a nearby rock. He was alone, lost, in his own village.

* * *

Gothi felt a string snap. She had made a mistake. The boy wasn't meant to be lost like this. She had to think. Unfortunately, time waits for nobody.

* * *

Stoick approached his son. He had been terrified when he'd found the empty bed, with no sign left of Hiccup's presence but a bit of regurgitated fish. Then as he was organizing a search Astrid Hofferson had appeared and told him where to find his son.

"Hiccup?" No response. "Son, are you alright?"

Hiccup's back didn't even move. That stung Stoick more than the empty bed had. When he worried about losing his son it had always been to a dragon, or an outcast ransom, not like this. He tried again.

"I'm sorry son, I wasn't there. Gobber told me how he found you. I should have been there… to protect you. I… I failed you, son."

Hiccup stiffened. He stood up quickly and turned to his father.

"Where were you dad? I woke up and I was ALONE! You didn't care enough to stay by me?!"

"I was… busy son. The village needed me."

"**I** NEEDED YOU!" Hiccup paused, exhaustion clouding his visage.

"Dad, I needed you. And you weren't there." And then the Hiccup fell backwards onto the stone. His undernourished body no longer able to hold on. Stoick ran forward to catch his son, who looked up at him coldly, through foggy eyes.

(1) He hasn't eaten in weeks, he's been unconscious for weeks. Between the blood loss and the shock he's been asleep. He pulled the muscles in his arm really bad so that's why it still hurts like two weeks after pulling it.

(2) Of dragons.

(3) Writing this line was so annoying, a scene like this demands a sunset, afternoon just isn't sad enough, but I already established the time and it makes more sense that way. :(

(4) Damnit, I really need to find another way to write this kind of thing, this is like the third time I've had Hiccup cry, and it's warranted, but I really feel like I'm starting to overuse it. At least it's been a different reason for the tears each time(hint hint hint…)

(5) It was really hard to write this scene mostly because every instinct I have is screaming at me that you can't put too characters in that kind of environment and not have them emerge as friends(or closer friends as the case may be). But I think I made it work, and Hiccup and Astrid have 5 years to grow distant after this before they have any defined interaction. Besides, as I realized when reading some other fan fictions it is not just possible but probably that Hiccup and Astrid would have been friends at one point in their childhood.

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry this one is so much shorter than the other chapters. It was a lot more difficult to write. I don't usually read books that put this much focus on the characters internal conflict, thoughts, and feelings and I've never written something like this before. The story kept wanting to reconcile the characters, which obviously wouldn't work for the plot. So yeah, I hope I did it justice and managed to stay true to the characters. Please leave a review telling me how I can improve, it would mean a lot, thanks.

I'm going to be a bit slower to release chapters from now on. Expect the next one on either monday or wednesday and the one after that next weekend. That will be the regular schedule unless something changes.


	5. Distractions

Stoick stepped through the door into the Haddock's home, the building that had housed him, and his father before him, and his father before him back for six generations, the home that had been rebuilt twelve times, each time exactly the same, the building that until very recently had been a happy place for him. It had reminded him of his son. When he saw loose springs and bits of metal lying around it reminded him of Hiccup. It reminded him that, even without Valka, he wasn't alone, that he still had family. And now he didn't.

When Hiccup had awoken after collapsing into Stoick's arms he had refused to speak to his father. Instead he had gone to the forge and bedded down there. Gobber had privately promised to keep an extra eye on Hiccup but Stoick knew it didn't matter. His son was safe... safe, home, and unwilling to speak with him. The boy would turn his head and hurry past if he happened to pass Stoick in the village and when his father came to the forge to try to speak, a daily occurrence, he would suddenly begin to angrily and very loudly work on what ever metal project was most convenient to hand. Yesterday it had been a sword. It **had** been a sword, by the time Stoick gave up and left there had been nothing more than a flat vaguely rectangular shape spread over the anvil.

Stoick didn't know what to do. He didn't understand why his son refused to speak with him. He knew he had failed him, he should have been there to protect Hiccup in the forest. He didn't know that to Hiccup it was far more painful and defining that he had not been there to help Hiccup when he woke up for the first time. It didn't make sense to Stoick that his son should not care whether he was around to protect him, as he had from that Nadder, as he wished he had from the Whispering Death, but did care, so very much, that he was not there when Hiccup's need was not for physical salvation but rather for emotional support. It might not have mattered if Stoick had understood Hiccup's need. The chief had rarely shown any emotion but anger and disappointment to anybody since the death of his wife.

* * *

Gobber stared down at the board. This was the thirtieth game of Maces and Talons that he'd played with Hiccup in the last two days and the hundred and fortieth since he'd awoken again two weeks prior. Hiccup was healed in body, but not in mind and he had yet to win a single one. Gobber pushed his longship forward two squares and rolled the dice to fire his catapult. Six, two, and four. A small hand reached forward and gathered up the dice. They clattered down onto the wood again. Six, two, and one. An enemy boat was pulled off the game board.

"You should speak to him lad."

The Childs hand pushed two marauders forward, surrounding one of Gobber's vikings. The dice clattered again and the viking was pulled off of the board.

"Why?"

"He cares about you. It's breaking his heart in twain that ye'll not give him so much as the time."

"Why should he want the time from me? And you're wrong. He doesn't care. If he did, he would have been there."

One of Hiccup's ships crossed the centre line, and unloaded a group of warriors on the centre island.

"You were in the middle of a forest lad. He didn't know where. He tried his best to find ye. He would have too."

"I don't care about that."

Gobber pushed his soldiers forward to counter attack Hiccup's landing force and moved his other longship to flank them and prevent any escape.

"Then what do you care about lad? That he wasn't there when you woke?" The dice bounced and a wound was marked on one of Gobber's enemies. "He stayed by your side for ten days. He barely ate or drank. It was pure bad luck that he wasn't there to see you wake."

"I… Gobber… It's not that he wasn't there. It's that he's never there. Every time when I need him, my father, most, every time he isn't there. He wasn't there when dragons took Einar(1), he wasn't there when I broke my arm two years ago, and he wasn't there for me when I woke up."

Gobber looked sadly at Hiccup. He didn't really know what to say. He knew that Stoick hadn't talked to Hiccup after either of the first two events because he'd felt guilty. Blaming himself for both. Gobber could have told Hiccup that Stoick hadn't been there because he was scared. Stoick hadn't been there because he was afraid that he would lose his son if he tried to comfort him and seemed disappointed or if Hiccup blamed him for his loses. Gobber could have told Hiccup and Stoick had fought and argued with him every time he left Hiccup's side while he was unconscious. Gobber could have told Hiccup all of these things. He didn't. Gothi had told him that he should. His instinct told him it would do no good, indeed that it might do harm. Hiccup would not want to hear this from him. He would want to hear it from Stoick.

"Herrlof."(2)

Gobber broke away from his thought and looked down at the board. Hiccup's vikings surrounded his own and the boy had just rolled an attack on Gobber's last longship with his catapult. Three sixes showed face on the table between them.

* * *

Hiccup went to sleep on the floor of the forge, huddled under a thin blanket, his legs hugged tight to keep out the bitter cold. Gobber had offered him a bed in his own house, or a hammock in the forge. Hiccup had refused both and instead slept in the backroom on the cold hard ground, grieving. He never shed a single tear however.

* * *

That night old Egil went quietly in his sleep. When Gobber, in desperation and worry for his god-son, reached out to the island's old wise woman he received only one rune. Laguz.(3)

* * *

Fishlegs Ingerman, the only real friend of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, viking berserker, ten year old botanist, and the only person on the isle of Berk to make an original discovery about dragons in the last hundred and fifty years was worried. He and Hiccup were friends. True they had been growing apart more and more as Snotlout bullied Hiccup, and Fishlegs kept silent to avoid the same lot, but other than Gobber he was the only friend Hiccup had.

Fishlegs had been watching the events of the last four weeks with a great deal of caution and even more inaction. Stoick the Vast terrified him, so he had kept silent and attended only, as his friend grew further and further away from his father. Unfortunately for him, while afraid, he was not a coward. He didn't want to, he couldn't watch his friend suffer, silently, any longer. So it was with a great deal of timidity that he approached the smithy that day.

"Hiccup?"

There was a groan from the inside of the forge. Fishlegs took this as an invitation and pushed open the door. Hiccup was lying on the floor. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked almost like he would throw up. To his left there was a large box filled with what appeared to be, from a single glance, demolished weapons. To his right there was a board and a set of pieces from maces and talons. The position was a complex one, and Fishlegs, more the academic than the strategic, couldn't even begin to find the best move. Hiccup however wasn't even looking at the board, yet he was moving the pieces slowly, and even to Fishlegs' untutored eyes the moves he played for each side were very powerful.

"Ummm… Hiccup. I came to see if you wanted to play a game? Find some new plants to study? Explore the woods? I don't know. Something other than moping around in here?"

Hiccup made a non-committal gesture and pushed the Maces and Talons board in front of him. Fishlegs sat down across the board from Hiccup and began to arrange his initial position. The dice were set next to the board. They rolled. Fishlegs won the first move.

"You should talk to your dad." A slow push forward with each of his troops. Hiccup's move.

"Not you too. I can't Fishlegs." Hiccup moved two of his boats and four of his warriors up the left of the board quickly, an attempt to capture the centre island early. Fishlegs' move.

"Hiccup, you're more miserable than I've ever seen you. That includes the day after you tried to give Astrid flowers. I'm sure if you just talk to him you'll make up." The heir and one of longships moved, with four vikings, up the right of the board to defend. Hiccup's move.

"Fishlegs, he doesn't love me. He's only trying to talk to me because he feels guilty. I'll never be the viking he wants, not in a million years." Hiccup sent two warriors north along the right of the board and one of his initial force made its way onto the centre isle. Fishlegs' move.

"So tell him that! Tell him anything. What could possibly be worse than this?" Another slow advance. The dragon attacked Hiccup's warrior on the centre island, scoring one wound and drawing first blood. Hiccup's move.

"I can't." Two more troops from his left flank joined the first the centre island. One of them moved to skirt around the dragon and reach the egg. Fishlegs' move.

"Why not? If you don't you'll spend the rest of your life estranged from your own father, Hiccup. You can't want that." Fishlegs' moved his heir and two of the four vikings onto the centre island to oppose Hiccup's power grab. The dragon attacked Hiccup's troops again, this time to no effect. Hiccup's move.

"I just can't alright!" Hiccup raised his voice slightly. His two warriors from the right flank moved onto the centre island, surrounding the dragon, egg, and preventing Fishlegs' troops from outflanking his own. Fishlegs' move.

"Come on Hiccup! You're being stupid. He's your father. Of course he loves you. Why can't you just talk to him!?" Fishlegs' moved his other two troops onto the centre island to support his heir and made an advance with five more of his vikings on the left flank. The dragon switched targets and returned to her egg, the vikings were too close for comfort. Hiccup's move.

"What if he doesn't!? What if you're wrong and I talk to him and he says, 'You're not my son.' I'm weak, one little dragon had me in bed for weeks. I can't talk to him." Hiccup's soldiers moved against Fishlegs'. The dice clattered on the floor. One of Fishleg's vikings was removed from the board. Fishlegs' move.

"That's what you're afraid of!? That you'll talk to him and he'll disown you!? Hiccup, he's been trying to speak with you for weeks, ever since you got up. You can't think he's just trying to talk to you to sever the connection. That's ridiculous." Fishlegs' heir moved forward. The dice rolled. Hiccup's two soldiers on the right flank were lifted from the board. The dragon continued to circle its egg. Hiccup's move.

"You're probably right." Hiccup moved his four remaining warriors to the edge of the centre island and began to push another force forward from his main one. Fishlegs' Move.

"Of course I'm right!" Fishlegs sent on of his warriors forward to the right edge of the island. The other two with the heir went left. The dragon moved towards the lone viking. Hiccup's turn.

"I'll talk to him." Hiccup's main force was moving forward. It was too slow though. Hiccup had lost. Unless Fishlegs was very very unlucky he would have control of the dragon next turn and enough warriors to hold the island. Fishlegs' move.

Fishlegs didn't respond to Hiccup's words but a smile spread across his pudgy face, and not just because his friend was seeing sense. He could see that he'd won. He rarely beat Hiccup. He moved his heir next to the dragon's egg and initiated control. His other three warriors took up stations on the edge of the centre island facing Hiccup and he began to move other vikings forward to reinforce his position.

* * *

Stoick was just finishing his meal, a slightly burned cod, and was about to prepare to try to make amends with Hiccup again when the door opened. He turned and almost gave a cry. Standing, framed in the doorway, worry plastered on his face and snow in his hair, was Hiccup.

(1) Hiccup's favourite yak(I made it up, inspired by a quote from Tuffnut or maybe Ruffnut in Race to the Edge) when he was five, unbeknownst to him it was actually accidentally killed and eaten after one particularly harsh dragon raid and Stoick told him that the dragons had carried him off in the hopes of minimizing the damage. The name is also a rune, I believe it means some like "the one who walks alone" just a bit of an easter egg for Hiccup's future :P

(2) Victory, see wikipedia article: Herløv

(3) The rune for chaos and the unknown, /runes/the-meanings-of-the-runes/ Gothi is telling Gobber she cannot see the future anymore. The question is: is this temporary, a result of her grief at the death of her husband? Or a permanent change?

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry this chapter took so long. I had a bit of trouble deciding where to take the story and I forgot just how busy I am when schools running. My earlier estimate of 2 chapters a week isn't going to happen. I'll try to do 1 but that's probably the best I can manage with this workload.

Please leave me feedback in a review. I really appreciate it and it helps me to stay motivated to continue writing(not that I wouldn't finish this anyways, even if nobody was reading it I'd finish it, I am just as curious as any of you to know how this story ends).

**Maces and Talons** is still in progress. I haven't been able to work much on it but I do have a game built and have been playing it with my brother, trying to balance it. Just so this chapter is easier to understand it works roughly like this: 2 opposing armies on a map(tile based) that contains land and water. Each. army has 1 chief, 1 heir, 1 traitor, 3 ships pilots, and 14 viking warriors with 2 longships and 3 smaller boats. The goal is to destroy the opponents forces. Your pieces can each move up to 3 tiles per turn(5 for boats) and you can make 1 move of 1 tile per turn for each piece you have alive(does not include boats, +2 extra for the chief and +1 extra for the heir). When next to an enemy soldier you can initiate combat. Both sides roll 3 dice and if the result is a difference of more than 3 then the loser's soldier dies and the victor moves to their tile. If the result is 3 or less difference the loser's soldier receives a wound(s) (2 for difference of 3 and 1 wound for difference of 2 or 1) three wounds = 1 dead viking. There is a dragon that lives on an island in the centre of the board. It takes the most direct path to the closest unit within five tiles and attacks it, moving 5 tiles per turn, no player controls it under normal circumstances. If a player moves his/her pieces next to the dragons egg(on the centre island too, dragon won't normally go more than 8 tiles away from it) they get to control the dragons movement and attacks.

This is the basic rule set but there are a lot of other little things that aren't essential to the game but make it more interesting and mean the chief heir and traitor and pilots are actually relevant. If you want the rest of the rules so you can play yourself instead of just getting enough to follow the game in the chapter PM me and I'll be happy to share.


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